


What Girls Do For Fun

by RuminantMonk



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Humor, Other, Role Playing, lots of cussing, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3584334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuminantMonk/pseuds/RuminantMonk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asami Sato and Opal Beifong have their lunch rudely interrupted by Triple Threat Triad enforcers.  The normally buttoned-up, high class gals let loose by busting heads and role-playing as foul-mouthed gangsters.  Toph would be proud.</p><p>  <i>“Alright, you jank-faced little shit dicks,” Asami spat.  “That’ll teach you to come busting into our hood like a bunch of no-brained, fuckass little street rats.”</i></p><p>  <i>She took a long drag from her cigarette, eyes still on the Triple Threat Triad member currently tied up and propped against the wall.  A casual flick of her fingers sprinkled ash on the gangster’s scruffy brown hair.</i></p><p>  <i>To her left, Opal’s foot was planted firmly on the chest of the second Triad enforcer, also tied up but laying flat on the ground. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	What Girls Do For Fun

“Alright, you jank-faced little shit dicks,” Asami spat.  “That’ll teach you to come busting into our hood like a bunch of no-brained, fuckass little street rats.”

She took a long drag from her cigarette, eyes still on the Triple Threat Triad member currently tied up and propped against the wall.  A casual flick of her fingers sprinkled ash on the gangster’s scruffy brown hair.

To her left, Opal’s foot was planted firmly on the chest of the second Triad enforcer, also tied up but laying flat on the ground. 

Just a few minutes ago, they’d been enjoying a nice little lunch at this lovely hole-in-the-wall seafood joint just by the docks.  It had become tradition for her and Opal, these monthly outings, and one she always looked forward to.  Opal and Asami got each other—it sort of came down to their surnames, really, Opal being a Bei Fong and Asami carrying the Sato name.  They both understood what it meant to be the youngest generation of their respective legacies, what it was like to have power and money attached to their identities. 

Class was complicated, to say the least, and Asami and Opal just felt at ease with one another because they could just be themselves in ways they couldn’t around the rest of the crew.  Because it wasn’t as simple as blue blood: Hiroshi had grown up poor and Baatar Sr. had come from humble beginnings.  No one else Asami knew understood what it meant to balance these two sides. 

Toph could probably relate: raised with proper society manners, but choosing to throw it all to the wind.  And damned if it wasn’t fun switching back and forth between prim and proper to rough and tumble.  The latter was a side to her father Asami had only witnessed every now and then—he’d let his roots show very rarely.  Under the influence of alcohol, she remembered hearing his regional, lilting drawl slip out and trip over certain words.  More fondly, Asami could recall when he’d let her tumble around in the grass, staining her knees green just like the boys at school (something her mother had deemed unladylike). 

And who knew Opal’s father had been the same?  According to her, he’d taught all the Bei Fong children how to play a rural version of Hanafuda, with high wagers and weirdly specific rules.  Even her mother joined in sometimes, though she disapproved of the gambling.

So, yeah, she and Opal got along.  When they met up at hotel bars, they got gussied up.  When they met at dives, they donned work clothes.  Around each other, they easily could go from raising their pinkies while imbibing top shelf liquor, to digging into plates of finger food, napkins be damned.  Triple digit prix fixe meals or greasy spoons (the only time Opal ever ate meat, because in her words, bad choices were meant to be deep fried), both were equally enjoyable. 

None of this was affectation, simply a way to express and celebrate their complicated backgrounds.  It was also a fun, sincere way to stay humble and in touch with how the rest of the world lived.  It even seeped into her work.  Spending time with the working class helped informed how Future Industries could better cater to their needs: infrastructure and low incoming housing, public transportation and other conveniences the less privileged otherwise wouldn’t be able to afford. Everyone deserved clean water and a roof over their heads, but they also deserved some of the finer things: public art in parks, easier access to the beach and museums, and reasonable leasing options for Satomobiles.

Frankly, Asami often preferred to spend her downtime at more humble establishments.  Maybe Korra’s lowkey approach to dates was having an effect on her.  Or maybe she was just sick of the high maintenance professionalism everyone had come to expect of her as the CEO of her father’s company.  Either way, when Opal suggested they hit up a cute seafood restaurant, Asami was quietly thrilled.

And today had been lovely, really, their lunch charming and delicious, everything going swimmingly … until these two Triple Triad assholes stormed in, intending to extort money from the sea shack’s proprietor (a sweet mother hen type whose daughters made up most of the waitresses). 

Luckily, the Triad thugs had been a pinch to take down. Asami hadn’t brought her glove, obviously, because who the hell brings weapons to lunch?  But a few smashed chairs, overturned tables, a well-placed fork or two (jammed into hands and thighs), salt and malt vinegar sprayed into beady little eyes, and the assholes had gone down.  Tying them up with the decorative rope and glass buoys hanging from the shack’s ceiling had been a stroke of genius. 

“Why don’t see if these motherfuckers can float?” Opal said, toeing the blue orb around the mustachioed thug’s neck.

“Good idea. You guys up for a little dip in the bay?” Asami bent down to stare the other Triad straight in the eye.  Smiling, she blew a puff of smoke straight into his face.  “Thanks for the smokes, small balls.  But, really, 100s?  I’m surprised,” she said, turning the extra long cigarette in her fingers. 

To her left, Opal laughed, mean-spiritedly.  “He must be overcompensating for something.”

Asami smiled.  “That wouldn’t be a surprise.  You assholes must be on the lowest rung of the ladder if the bigwigs sent you out here to steal money from a sweet little lady.”

“Say that again, you stupid bitch, and I’ll light your fucking hair on fire,” he snarled.

“What did you just say!?” Opal shrieked, marching over angrily.  She got close to his face.  “You don’t just threaten her  _motherfucking beautiful hair_.  Do you know who the fuck we _are_?  Do you know who the fuck _I_ am?" 

Okay, Opal was really having fun with this.  No harm in playing along.  “You should, you little punk fuck.  You ran shit out of luck when you stepped in her path because—”

“Because I’m from fucking _Zaofu_.  And do you know who I work for?  I work for the Razor, er—”  Opal paused.  Asami could tell she was stalling.  She caught her eyes glancing up at Asami’s hair.  “The Razor Hare Tigers.”

Asami choked down a laugh.  Clearing her throat, she resumed her threatening stance.  “And this,” she said motioning to Opal.  “Is _Slice and Dice_.  You don’t wanna find out how she got that name.”

Opal leaned in until her face was inches away from the thug’s.  She jabbed a finger in Asami’s direction.  “And do you know who she answers to?  She, um—”

Asami glared at her.   _Damn it, Opal, if you’re going to fib, you’ve got to be quick!  You could stand to learn a thing or two from Bolin._   It was up to Asami to think on her feet.

“I’m a MERCENARY,” she shouted.  “I work _alone_.”

Okay, that sounded fucking ridiculous.  The look Opal was giving her said as much.

“So fucking what?”  The Triad member looked only mildly perturbed.

Then, Opal really took her by surprise when she whipped out a rather lethal looking butterfly knife: pointy and shiny, polished steel all over.  She waved it threateningly in his face. 

“Maybe I’ll cut your ugly mug a new smile,” Opal said coolly.

_What the fuck, Opal?_

Witnessing this disturbing new side to her normally pacifistic friend made her want to laugh (or run?).  But judging by the way she was holding it, Opal clearly had no idea how to wield her fancy new weapon.  Asami snatched it from her hands. Thankfully, unlike the young Bei Fong, _she_ had some experience with this sort of thing.

Cigarette dangling from her mouth, she proceeded to show off some of her knife tricks.  A few flips and twists and twirls and flicks with the very sharp blade zooming every which way and the thug was thoroughly silenced.  Sweat beaded on his forehead, eyes following the movements of the blade nervously.  When she was done, Asami folded the knife back to its compact shape and took a long, leisurely drag of the cigarette.  He gulped.

“Fung, are you seriously going to let these chicken twats talk to you like that?”  Oh, the other guy.  Asami had totally forgotten about him.

“Watch your mouth, you little shitstain!” Opal shouted.  She grabbed an empty lager bottle from a nearby table by the neck and smashed it on its edge.  She strode over to where the other gangster lay on the floor and waved the jagged end dangerously close to his face.

“Opal?  What the _flameo_ —“ A familiar voice rang out behind them. 

They both spun around to find Lin and Korra standing in the doorway, their mouths hanging open at the scene.

“Asami, are you _smoking_?” Korra screeched.

Asami looked down at the burning cigarette held casually between her fingers.  “Um, no?” she tried, before dropping it and crushing it under her heel.

Opal turned back to the Triad members.  “Looks like our backup’s arrived.  But we don’t play by their rules,” she said.  Lightning-quick, Opal hooked an arm around Asami and pulled her close to her side.  Asami felt a hand slip into her back pocket.   _What the hell?_  Then a generous squeeze.  Was she losing her mind, or did Opal Beifong just cop a feel of her ass?

“So don’t fucking forget our faces.” Opal said before releasing Asami and turning heel to walk away.

Korra was staring at both of them, slack-jawed in disbelief while Lin frowned at her niece, the expression on her face a combination of disapproving and befuddled.  Choosing not to say a word to either of them, the chief of police instead stomped over to deal with the criminals, cuffs in hand.

“Okay, but really, what the heck was that?  Why were you smoking?” Korra asked, incredulous.  She turned to Opal.  “And did you just grab Asami’s ass in front of me?”

Opal blushed.  “Oh, sorry about that, I just got carried away.  I’ve been reading this great crime novel about a gangster lesbian couple that goes around causing mayhem and kicking men’s butts.”

That’s when Asami lost it.  Opal had gone from calling someone a “shitstain” to saying “butts” like it was nothing.  She bowled over laughing and just couldn’t stop.  Soon, Opal joined in, and both were laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

And Korra just stared at them, shaking her head in confusion. 

“Is this what you guys do for fun?  You need to invite me next time.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at comedy. Received a tumblr prompt asking for Asami and Opal beating down Triple Threat Triad enforcers who've interrupted their lunch. Decided to have some fun with it by having them role play as foul-mouthed gangsters. I have this weird headcanon that Opal has an overactive imagination from reading a ton of books during her downtime; it sort of explains why she fell so fast for Bolin aka Nuktuk.
> 
> Anyway, this was mad fun to write. Prompts open at my [tumblr](http://ruminantmonk.tumblr.com/).


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